


The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by MetalRose (EmilyBeauchene)



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, Smoking, not exactly an au, not exactly canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyBeauchene/pseuds/MetalRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David copes with his and Hal's little arguments in the best way that he can, but his mood is uplifted by the snow that falls around them on Christmas Eve. To make up to Hal, they go for a little walk in a cramped city way too late at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> What do you mean I'm posting this late. What do you mean it's not Christmas Eve anymore.

_Christmas Eve._

David has been listening to cheery Christmas music for two months too long. Really, people ought to stop playing the genre right after Halloween ends. Not that it really bothers David, he likes Christmas music.

He especially likes Christmas music when it’s 11:15 at night, he’s had a few drinks, and he’s had another fight with Hal. It was about David damaging the wall a few days ago and how they would be charged for it, nothing major.

His favorite song is _The Most Wonderful Time of the Year_ because it’s Christmas Eve and it really should be the most wonderful time of the year, but it’s not.  
His brother is MIA with a kid who set a hospital on fire, and his dad is ignoring him. He fought with Hal.

David smiles as he tips back his beer bottle and looks up to the sky. It’s a cloudy night, although the forecast is one hundred percent certain that there won’t be any precipitation. He wishes that it would snow just once.  
\--

_He’s late._

Not that it surprises Hal, but it does annoy him. It’s Christmas Eve, it’s 11:32 at night, and David isn’t home. For all he knows, Dave is out drinking himself into a coma and then smoking his lungs even blacker than they already are.

He shouldn’t let it bother him, but it does. David’s bad habits have always bothered him. They’re not good ones to keep, especially since he’s on a downward spiral and heading lower.

\--

“Did you know it’s snowing out?” David asks.

Hal startles from where he had fallen asleep on the couch. The old Claymation version of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer is playing on the TV, so quiet that neither of them can hear it. Hal rubs his eyes, effectively pushing his glasses up into his hair. David smells disgusting, even from the distance separating them.

“Have you been out drinking?” Hal asks. He pushes his glasses back down the bridge of his nose and gives David a scrutinizing once-over.  
David looks like a mess, and reeks like it, too. Hal hates when he comes back smelling like spilt beer and stale cigarette smoke.

“I said that it’s snowing out,” David replies, the usual slur in his tone that only happens when he’s been drinking whiskey. “Doesn’t that make you at least a little bit happy?” he asked, a grin spreading on his face. It’s boyish, and lights him up in a way that Hal hasn’t seen in months. “Do you want to go for a walk?” David presses.

Only then does Hal take in the rest of David’s appearance, lit by the TV. He’s covered in little white flecks, sticking to his scarf and all throughout his hair. His shoulders are already soaked through from where the snow has melted into his clothes.

“David, it’s past midnight,” Hal scorns, but can’t be bothered to put any bite to the words. He likes seeing David so happy, especially since it’s now officially Christmas.

“C’mon, that doesn’t matter,” David urges.

He tosses Hal a coat and a hat, still giving him that drunk grin. There’s no way that Hal could say no to a face like that.

\--

“I’m freezing,” Hal complains.

His hands, despite being gloved, are also shoved into his coat pockets. When he agreed to go for a walk, he didn’t realize just how much he would regret going for a walk. The cold is biting through his layers of clothes, and every time he breathes, it fogs up on his glasses. More than anything, it’s just annoying, but David is still so happy.

Rather than giving in to Hal’s complaints—at least the third one in the past twenty minutes—David wraps an arm around Hal’s waist and pulls him closer. Their bodies are brushing up against each other through the thick layers, but they’re still not close enough to satisfy Hal. He can just barely feel David’s heat, a miracle and a half. Normally the man is a damned radiator, what with all of that muscle mass on him.

David’s still smiling, and when Hal looks up at him, their eyes lock for the briefest of seconds. Hal looks away first, feeling his cheeks heat up at the way David chuckles under his breath. As David walks, he kicks his feet in the soft layer of powdery snow that has started to gather. Hal, on the other hand, drags his feet.

“Why aren’t we at home around the heater right now?” Hal asks. He looks at Dave again, and is rewarded with a few snowflakes falling straight onto his glasses.

He pulls a hand out of his pocket and wipes away the snow and water until he can sort of see again. It really is a nuisance, his vision being impaired repeatedly and persistently by the snow.

“Because it’s nice out,” David hums.

He leans his body into Hal’s, nearly eclipsing him. He tries to lean his head against Hal’s, but the strain on his neck is awkward as they walk, so he rights himself once more.

David has led both of them into a park, normally frequented by children and their families. No doubt that morning, there would be a million families there, creating snowmen and snowballs without a care in the world.

“Nice,” Hal repeats. He doesn’t think it’s nice, but whatever makes Dave happy. It’s better than him drinking himself into oblivion, Hal supposes.

In the center of the park, David stops walking. Hal is grateful for the chance to catch his breath, not that he would ever admit that a casual walk for David had gotten him out of breath. David didn’t need to know just how out of shape he was.

David parrots Hal’s echo. “Nice,” he murmurs, looking around the park.

The snow is steadily falling, not enough just yet to be considered a blizzard. Everything around them has gone silent. For the dead of New York on Christmas, it’s another miracle. David smiles. Christmas brings miracles. Maybe he would get a call from his dad or from his brother.

\--

Hal knows that David can be quiet for long periods of time, but this is just ridiculous. He hasn’t said a word in at least ten minutes, just staring up into the snow. It sticks to his eyelashes and the fringe of his dark chocolatey hair, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. Hal can’t stop brushing the snow off of himself, but David is content to sit still and let it gather on his body.

“Earth to Dave,” Hal calls. He raises an eyebrow at David, who takes ten times longer than normal to shift his gaze to Hal’s. “Can we go home now?” Hal asks.

“Sure,” David says. 

He doesn’t move, and Hal wonders for the briefest of moments if David had truly heard and understood what it was that he was requesting. David’s hand is gently caressing Hal’s side, trailing in soothing motions from his ribs to his hip, the motion repetitive and calming. 

When David finally moves, Hal doesn’t have the time to let out a sigh of relief.

David’s lips are over Hal’s, burning his skin and claiming his mouth like never before. It’s not the kind of touch that Hal is expecting, especially not while David is drunk. His lips are insistent, moving against Hal’s and urging Hal to participate.

Finally, when Hal recovers from the shock of the kiss, he allows himself to be swept into it. His mouth and David’s move together in time, having long ago memorized each other’s movements.

David’s lips taste sour from the booze and the cigarettes, but that doesn’t stop Hal from sucking David’s lower lip into his mouth. David’s hands travel from his sides up to Hal’s cheeks, even bigger now that he’s wearing ridiculous, Christmas-striped mittens. Hal breaks into a little grin and David pushes his tongue forward, past Hal’s cold-numbed lips.

Tongue just as sour as his lips, David licks into Hal’s mouth with no remorse. He’s a little shy with PDA, if they ever leave their apartment, but there’s no one out to see them now, and with the alcohol still burning strong in his bloodstream, he can’t be bothered.

Hal can’t figure out what it is that he’s supposed to be thinking about. There’s snow gathering in awkward clumps in his hair, David still smells like a back alleyway dumpster, his mouth tastes disgusting, but the feeling of David kissing him is spreading heat through his veins like a piping cup of hot chocolate. 

Just when Hal’s ready to start grinding up against David—the kiss warming him in more ways than one—David’s pulling away. He still has that dumb smile plastered to his lips, and he dusts some of the snow from Hal’s hair.

“Merry Christmas,” Dave says.

“Thanks,” Hal replies. Another snowflake falls onto his glasses. “Can we go home now?”

“Sure.”

“And—Dave?”

“Yes, Hal?”

“Merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey what do you know I'm Metal Gear trash too


End file.
